


A Long Time Coming

by badmagician



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badmagician/pseuds/badmagician
Summary: Billy has never owned anything as valuable as the knives Goody had made for him, and he's certainly never been gifted anything that valuable. It doesn't seem like the kind of present a man would give a business partner, or even a friend.





	A Long Time Coming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nonesane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonesane/gifts).



The knife was gleaming in the warm light of the oil lamp, the steal sleek and smooth, flawless the way only a weapon that has never been used yet could be. It was perfectly balanced in his hand, the grip warm, and the heavily ornamented sheath rested on Billy’s lap. Billy had rarely had more money than he could spend in a day, not until about a year ago, and he still didn’t know much about the exact price tags on finer things. But even so he had no doubt that having this knife made must have cost a fortune. And it was only one of several. Even with Goody’s silver tongue and the fame of his name that seemed to open doors and purses wherever they went, he must have saved up from his share of their earnings for some time. Billy had never possessed anything so valuable. He’d certainly never been _given_ anything so valuable.

“Do you like them?” Goody asked, trying and failing to sound casual, even more so as he’d already asked the question twice since presenting Billy with the knives earlier that day. He’d stripped out of his jacket and was pacing through their shared little inn room – they always shared. It was cheaper and safer, and neither of them ever invited the kind of company that would require privacy. Billy because most people didn’t trust him enough to be alone with him, and Goody … Goody flirted and charmed, he kissed hands and winked and laid the compliments on so thick that nobody could have possibly believed them, and yet somehow people always did. But at the end of the night, Goody always went up to their shared room alone, with only Billy to keep him company. Billy couldn’t say he minded. He slept better with Goody nearby, despite the muttering when Goody was plagued by nightmares. Back when Billy had still travelled alone, more than once men had busted into his room at night, accused him of stealing or cheating or whatever other crime they needed a culprit for. With Goody around, those things never happened, and even if they did, Goody would be able to defuse the situation without a fight.

Theirs was a mutually beneficial arrangement. But no man gave a mere business partner a gift like this.

“They’re beautiful. Well made,” Billy said, turned the knife once more and sheathed it. He raised his head to look at Goody – hair pressed flat from his hat, beard neatly groomed, eyes impossibly blue. He could look at ease anywhere, in the middle of the desert, in a seedy saloon, but also conversing with a rich lady in a fancy shop. Goody only ever talked in vague terms about his life before the war, but what little he’d said, and more importantly the way he spoke and dressed and moved and the way all that added up to people standing up a little straighter around him and calling him “sir” even before hearing his name, all that told Billy that he’d been rich once, or wealthy at least. A man who’d once owned his part of the world, and who now treated Billy like an equal. No other white man Billy had ever met had done that, not even the ones in the blue coats who liked to talk a great deal about having fought to free the slaves. Nobody had ever fought to free men like Billy in the territories out West, men who’d always been technically free, just as long as they didn’t try to leave.

Right now Goody lacked his usual composure. His hands were moving too much, fiddling with an unlit cigarette Billy had rolled for him earlier, then with the buttons on his coat. 

“You didn’t have to buy these for me,” Billy said. He had two serviceable knives. They weren’t as balanced and sharp as these, certainly not as beautiful, but he’d never had trouble killing a man with them.

“Nonsense. The way you fight is nothing short of art; you shouldn’t be doing it with dull, brittle blades.”

A sensible sentiment, especially from the man who fought by Billy’s side and relied on Billy to watch his back, but it didn’t explain the ornaments, didn’t explain why Goody kept pacing through the room and glancing at Billy, like he was waiting for him to say more.

“Come here, Goody,” Billy said after putting the knives aside. He got up, and after just two steps Goody was standing right in front of him. It was a small room, what little furniture there was barely leaving any space to stand. They were close enough that he could feel Goody’s breath on his face, see the brightness of his eyes and the gleam of his gold tooth when he flashed him a smile that looked almost a little nervous. The only times Goody ever looked nervous was when a fight _got to him_ , the way they did sometimes, but this was nothing like that. He never looked nervous when he charmed and cajoled and manipulated until people either liked him or feared him enough to do what he wanted. Billy had realised long ago that Goody didn’t give a damn if all those strangers liked him; his charm was just a tool to make his life easier. To avoid those fights that made his hands shake and his eyes wide. 

And at first he’d been that way around Billy, too. The words Billy wanted to hear even if he didn’t know it himself yet, that charming smile, that twinkle in those bright blue eyes. But as the months had passed, as they had kept travelling together, turning into a much better team than either of them could have expected when they’d first met in that saloon, Billy with his fists covered in blood, Goody with a delighted smile on his face – as the months passed, Billy got his first glimpses at the man underneath the calculating charm. Just a few at first, involuntary ones, when Goody woke from sleep with a startled gasp, or when something genuinely made him angry and he cursed up a blue streak. But more and more Goody had simply let his guard down, talked to him as a partner rather than another mark in a con, and then as a friend. He looked at Billy with a fondness in his eyes that Billy wouldn’t have thought possible, a fondness that was mirrored by Billy’s own.

Goody’s hand was almost as cool as the blade when Billy reached down to take it, then guided it slowly up to his face until Goody’s calloused palm touched his cheek. He liked Goody’s hands – liked them when they were sure and steady, but also when they were shaking and clam, and when they slowly relaxed under Billy’s touch. He rarely touched Goody unless it was in those moments, and now he saw half a dozen conflicting emotions flash over Goody’s face when he did. Surprise and a kind of longing, and concern, uncertainty, and then almost shock as a thought seemed to occur to him.

“You know I don’t expect anything in return, don’t you? They’re a gift,” he said, too serious and too worried. Billy smiled a little at the absurdity of it – the last man who’d try to _buy_ him had gotten a knife in his throat for his trouble – as much as at Goody’s need to reassure him. To reassure himself that what they had wasn’t anything like that – wasn’t what it looked like to most men who saw them and assumed Billy was Goody’s servant, his property, maybe his bedwarmer too. Trust didn’t come easily to either of them, and maybe that’s why it mattered so much to them both.

“If I thought you did … you know where I’d put those fancy knives.” He didn’t like threatening Goody, not even playfully. Goody talked about the war as rarely as about his life before it, but Billy had heard just enough stories to know that Goody had lived through enough violence for a whole lifetime. He put his other hand on Goody’s chest, imagined he could feel his heart beat through his clothes, looked into Goody’s eyes when Goody’s hand finally moved, just his thumb brushing gently over Billy’s cheek. 

For a little while, neither of them said a word. Billy’s skin felt hot where Goody’s fingers touched it. It should have been so easy to reach out and pull him closer still, but he still hesitated. If he was wrong about this … 

“It’s not the kind of gift you would give a friend,” Billy said carefully when Goody continued to be uncharacteristically quiet. It was rare that Goody didn’t seem to know what to say, but Billy didn’t mind filling the gaps, never minded being there when Goody needed him to. Not when Goody always stepped up when Billy needed him, too.

Billy didn’t have a lot of experience with friends – he’d been on his own for most of his life, watching out for himself, trying to survive even if that often meant someone else not surviving – but he didn’t think most friends were as close as he and Goody had grown. Trusted each other so blindly. Relied on each other that much. Spent every waking moment together as if there was something missing when they didn’t. It didn’t feel like he’d known Goody for barely a year. It felt like he’d waited for him his whole life, he just hadn’t known it yet.

“No, it isn’t,” Goody said quietly, like a confession he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to make. But his smile softened when Billy leant in closer, and when their lips finally met, the nervous tension seeped out of Goody’s body. The kiss was tender and careful and a promise of more, and that too felt like Billy had been waiting for it a long time.


End file.
